


you broke the ocean in half to be here

by syrenhug



Series: Salt [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Bisexual Male Character, Character(s) of Color, Child Abuse, Colorism, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gender Identity, Growing Up, HIV/AIDS, Hate Crimes, Internalized racism, KKK, Lesbian Character, M/M, Racism, Setting - 90's, Slurs, Trans Character, White Passing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knows his mother is white. When he was growing up, he didn’t really think about it. It was just another fact like: the sky is blue, my favorite color is gold, be home five minutes before the street lights go out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Immigrant

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings; homophobic language, slurs (racist and homophobic), violence and even more general racism (internalized and otherwise)
> 
> Swearing because these are 14/15 year olds, and i wanted an excuse. if you're worried about this romanticizing anything then your safe because i don't do that. Tags will update as I keep writing.
> 
> Titles are from poet Nayyirah Waheed.

1994

_September_

“First day of high school, kid.” His dad announces, weaving his fingers into Harry’s hair. It’s all curls that never lay flat, no matter how much he or his mother try to comb it. Eventually his dad just laughed at their attempts. Said, _maybe it’s just better to let some things be_. “You excited?”

He takes a huge bite of his peanut butter bagel. The radio is playing Careless Whisper and his mother is humming the melody under her breath as she scoops up another bite of eggs on her spoon. Harry has spent his entire life trying to get her to use a fork like a normal person, but his mother is just. Weird.

“Sure. I just have one question.”

Both his parents pause, eyebrows arched in question.

“How soon can I graduate?”

* * *

 

  
He’s been friends with Ron since kindergarten when they got into an argument about who was going to use the red crayon first. Hermione didn’t show up until second grade, but she’d made herself known. From her overbite, tight braids and loud exclamation of _being black, thank you very much_ , she’d been seriously different. The only brown people in his school who didn’t get offended if you mentioned they weren’t white were Dean Thomas, Parvati and Padma Patil.

Hermione leans over. “You have Biology first period with me. Let me see your schedule, Ron.”

“Yes, mother.”

Harry shoves his backpack in locker. “Oh, kinky.”

By the time Hermione had looked over everything and made plans he and Ron are tussling in the hallway, bumping into the lockers. Someone screams and he thinks he hears Hermione laugh.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, what in the good Lord’s name are you doing?”

Ms. McGonagall peers over her glasses, mouth pursed. Harry straightens up quickly, pushing Ron to the floor in the process. “Nothing, ma’am. Just messing around.”

“Hmm, well. In the future do try not to have too much fun in the middle of a hallway.” She says, but the lines around her eyes soften. “And do tell both your parents I said hello.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sure.”

By the time, she’s disappeared into her classroom, they’ve already started fighting again.

* * *

 

  
Harry knows his mother is white. When he was growing up, he didn’t really think about it. It was just another fact like: _the sky is blue, my favorite color is gold, be home five minutes before the street lights go out._

Mother has straight red hair, green eyes and olive skin. Pale enough that when she held hands with dad people stared. Pale enough that she almost disappears, drifting into the backdrop of spring skies and milk glasses.

He remembers asking her, when he was ten, if she minded being the one out of place.

"Nope. I'm never going to be the one that feels left out here. This is never going to be about me. Not in this."

Harry almost doesn't want to know what she means.

* * *

 

  
“Ugh, we would have to be in a class with Malfoy.”

“Let it go, Ron.” Harry admonishes, then lowers his voice when Mr. Snape glares at from his corner desk. “At least he’s on the other side of the room.”

Mr. Snape's low drawl quiets them immediately. "Mr. and Ms. Potter, since you can't be quiet enough to do your work while sitting together, I'm moving you."

"Fuck." Ron breathes, the tips of ears red.

"Thing 1 next to Draco. Thing 2 behind Goyle."

"Double fuck."

Malfoy sits right in front of Mr. Snape, the suck up. Harry grabs his stuff and stomps over to wall seat. Malfoy doesn't even look up from his work, fingers long and steady over the beakers. He looks back at Ron. Sticks out his tongue. He's not surprised to see two middle fingers pointed his direction.

"Don't worry, Potter, it's not like I'm going to ask you to be competent."

"Whatever."

"Indeed." Malfoy snorts.

* * *

 

  _October_

Fall makes his family restless. They find reasons to go outside, to pack stuff up or take things out.

“How come none of your family comes to see us?” Harry asks. He’s wearing his dad’s oversized jersey and a baseball cap to shield from the dizzying sun.

Mom stills, but after a minute she continues plucking up weeds. The gloves she wears are cloth; green with white stripes. “My family’s conservative. It’s better that they aren’t around.”

“You mean they’re racist.” That’s usually what people mean when they say conservative. Racist, white, christian, rich or middle class, republicans. With nice white houses and paintings of nature and artfully crafted lunches. People like the Malfoys. “Were you racist too?”

“Oh, honey.” She laughs. “I think all white people are at least a little racist. But I try to unlearn the things they taught me and I hope I’m doing right by you. I love you so much and I want to make sure you love yourself too. That’s why they don’t come around. Who knows what kind of mess they’ll try to make of your head.”

He watches her throw the weeds in the bag. Watches the curve of her palm over the dirt and how she pats it as if to say good job. Never resentful for what it grows or cannot bear to give up to the earth.

Harry puts his hand over his mother’s. Her nails are blood red and bitten around the cuticles.

“I love you too.”

“I know.” She smiles.

* * *

 

  _November_

Ron has six siblings and hates every single one like he’s getting paid for it. Harry likes to go over to their house, affectionately named the burrow, and cause as much trouble as possible.

“Hi, Harry!” Everyone shouts as he runs up the stairs. He waves, shoes making a sharp squeak as he practically jumps up the stairs. Ron’s bedroom door is cracked, and he rolls his eyes when he hears the sound of the Rugrats characters talking. The room is a mess, as always. He gags when he sees a half molded sandwich under the bed.

“Shut up,” Ron says after a few seconds. He doesn’t even look up.

“I got the tickets for Aerosmith, dickhead.”

That makes his best friend look up. “Are you serious? You look serious, but are you serious?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. I had to practically beg my mom so you owe me big time.”

“Fuck. I have to clean my room now!”

* * *

 

December

He loves to watch his parents dance. His mother’s toes digging into his dad’s socks. Everyone knows she can’t dance (she even manages to clap off beat?), but for Christmas Eve she gives it her best shot and lets them laugh at her. They start off with All I Want For Christmas while he drinks eggnog on the living room floor.

Usually, he makes faces and pretends he thinks it's gross, but this time he asks them, "What does love feel like?"

Mom stops, dad wincing when she buries her toes even deeper into his feet. "Why do you ask? Do you like somebody? Who is it? Is it Ron?"

"Mom, no, ew." 

"Lily, we've talked about this." Dad tilts his head back. "Stop trying to get your son to come out."

"I'm not gay." Harry whines. Because he's not. He likes girls. Specifically, Cho Chang. 

"You could be bisexual." His mom argues. Her braid hits dad in the face as she whips around and he pretends to fall. "James, he could be bisexual."

"Stop talking to Sirius." 

"You guys, this has not answered my question. At All." 

His parents look at him. "It's awful." 

"Seriously?" 

"Yep, we want you to avoid it as much as possible. Maybe wait until you're like 20, 35, possibly 40. Unless it's one of the Weasley boys which in that case -"

" _Lily._ "

"Okay, okay. It's nice." She shrugs, humming a little when Silent Night comes on. "Really nice. Your dad's a mess, but he's my mess."

Dad scoffs. "You eat cereal with a fork and you're calling me a mess?" 

"Your mess?" She glances up with a grin. They continue dancing. The soft music has Harry's eyes fluttering closed, head dropping to the arm of the chair. Love sounds complicated, but worth it, if it has parents this happy.

* * *

 

  _January_

“Get out, Potter.”

“Last I checked you didn’t own where I piss.”

Malfoy rolls his eyes. Harry hates how he sometimes notices how grey they are, how they turn blue when he wears certain colors. Not that Malfoy wears colors. His entire wardrobe consists of white and different shades of grey. The irony.

“Do you hear the words that come out of your mouth or are you just naturally this inadequate?”

“Get stuffed.”

“My father’s right - you queers are really trying to push your agenda.”

“Well, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Harry laughs, watching Malfoy fluff his hair in the mirror. He blushes, red creeping into the tips of his ears as he lets his fingers go down to the sink.

“Fuck off, Potter. Go scrub a toilet with your father.”

Harry can feel his jaw clench, but he tries to laugh it off. He’s already been in multiple fights with Malfoy and he doesn’t want to add another conversation with Dumbledore about tolerance and maintaining the peace amongst peers. “Just get out. Please.”

For a second, Malfoy looks at him and seems curious. “Pee shy?”

“No.” Yes.

“Ah,” His shoulders fall, like he’s caught the lie. “I have better things to do anyway, like not breathe your dirty air.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Waits until the door slams shut behind Malfoy to say, “Dickwad.”

“I heard that!”

* * *

 

_February_

Billy Madison isn’t funny at all. Harry tells his dad this and he laughs for three minutes straight.

* * *

 

_March_

Ron’s birthday is them passing notes and candy in class, hysterical over Hermione’s gift that she’d stuffed in his locker. A huge box of one bag of his favorite chips. Harry gives him a bag of chocolate eyeballs with a new video game called Shannara. 

Everyone in the class is either annoyed by how loud they’re being or amused. Ms.Trelawney is staring intently at her computer screen and ignoring that the movie they’re supposed to be watching hasn’t moved past the title screen. Eventually, someone sighs.

“Can you assholes shut up?"

"Stay on your side of the room, snakes." But Ron is smiling, words thoughtless. 

When class ends, all three of them are by the door, flushed and shoving each around. Ron's zipper gets caught in Hermione's hair and Harry laughs the whole time they try to detangle.

"Unlike you three, some of us have places to be." Malfoy comments. A piece of paper falls out of his backpack and Harry bends down to pick it up. When he realizes, no one saw him, he stuffs it in his pocket. 

"-your horses." 

“Do you not speak English? Move. I said move.”

“She doesn’t need to move. You can go around."

"Ron." Hermione tries to push him to the side. 

“I’m not going around. Move.” Malfoy's eyes are red and puffy at the edges. He sounds almost frightened. Behind him, Pansy and Theo are staring at the ground. People are trailing by, watching. Ms. Trelawney long gone after the bell had rung. "I know you might not understand the concept of respect and all, with your family being uneducated and all - "

Ron jaw is suddenly tight, hands moving and Harry needs to stop this right now - "I knew you were a right bitch, but I didn't know you were a faggot too."

And, Malfoy's face twists. "I knew they shouldn't have let niggers go here."

Hermione jolts as if shot. Her lips shape and something clicks, a backpack falling on the group and there are limbs and bodies and someone is shouting _fight_ as loudly as the time Seamus and Dean punched each other over a girl and made up five minutes afterwards.

Harry remembers going to the beach when he was eight, the sand in between his toes, how the sun adopted him for one day and kept him from burning. Mother had laughed, exasperated by her own peeling, how her flesh rejected the brightness and left her red.

He thinks of his power, at that moment, and wonders why it abandons him during times like this. 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later, Draco's nose is broken and Ron has a black eye. Harry shoulder hurts for reasons he can't remember. Hermione is silent as night beside him. They all look ahead and breathe.

The door opens and Dr. Dumbledore gestures them in his office with a nod. His office is warm with three bowls of candy that Ron and he used to sneak in a try to swipe in middle school.

All their parents are frowning. He swallows, frightened, but his dad looks over at him and winks. Harry makes eye contact with Malfoy's dad then quickly looks away. 

"Now," Dr. Dumbledore starts. "This cannot happen again. But I know you all feel awful, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." They all say. Malfoy only nods. 

"Because of the severity of your words, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy, you both are suspended for two days and will serve detention for two weeks. Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger, you have detention with Mr. Snape for days. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione repeats. Her knuckles are bleeding, he notices, and feels proud. 

"You're all free to go." 

Harry watches Malfoy's dad grip his son's neck as they leave, so tightly it leaves marks. He turns away. 

* * *

 

_April_

Brown is color of water once you’ve scrubbed the dirt and mud from skin. The hue Hermione's hair shines from the sun on the bus home. The shade of his father's eyes and the wood of the table his family eats on. Brown, he thinks, like his skin, leaves nothing buried or hidden.

* * *

 

_May_

The last few weeks of school, he and Malfoy stay as far away from each other as physically possible. Dad tells him to stay calm, stay aware. _Don’t let it get underneath your skin, kid._

But Harry has problems separating the rage. The way it’s planted its seeds since his birth, the way Malfoy’s fingers watered it with his mouth curled, nose too wide to be narrow but he is so fucking narrow he wants to just -

Harry spends the weekend at Ron’s house, playing video games and pretending the anger is not growing within his body like his mother’s garden during spring.

 

 


	2. Interlude #1: Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's summer of 95.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “in our own ways we all break. it is okay to hold your heart outside of your body for days. months. years. at a time. " 
> 
> Abuse is mentioned but not graphically. 
> 
> Not really a huge Alanis fan, but imagine this kid listening to TLC.

_Summer_ (1995)

Draco loves water. He can’t swim, but he always ends up with his feet pressed in it. Lakes, ponds. He wishes the beach was near but is almost glad for its distance. Anything could happen to him. Maybe he’d let it.

For his birthday, he skips rocks. Theo comes and sits with him in the grass.

“Where do you think they go?”

He blinks. Side eyes his friend. “Where do you think?”

“I - “ Theo licks his lips. “I don’t know if I believe that’s right. I believe in God and everything but, why would they care about the color of someone’s skin? Didn’t He do that?”

Draco thinks about Granger’s face, how it’d crumpled then scrunched up tight. Her knuckles hitting his nose. How maybe the pain they’d inflicted were equal in measure.

He watches the water ripple as the rock hits it.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

* * *

 

He finds pictures in the not so locked hall closet. A woman with tight curls and light brown skin is staring into the camera intently. He swallows the expression like his favorite sweets.

“Father?” Draco questions over dinner. His father cuts a piece of his steak and doesn’t look up. “What was mother like?”

The fork clangs on the rim of the plate. He winces. Father clicks his tongue. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“I just - I saw some pictures.”

“In the closet you are not supposed to be playing in? I thought you were a man, not a little girl.”

He swallows, face horribly red. “I am. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“You’ll have to be punished.”

“I’m sorry, please - “

“Draco.”

He closes his mouth.

The bruises aren’t bad, considering. But the pain keeps him awake. Keeps his eyes glued to his bedroom ceiling. If only -

But no. No.

* * *

Of course, he sees Potter. They’re bound to run into each other, knowing how small their town is. But it still manages to take Draco by surprise. He’s walking past the arcade when he just so happens to look.

Granger is laughing, presumably teasing Weasley over his attempts at playing. Potter is leaning against the wall, watching. He’s managed to grow in the few months they haven’t seen each other. He’s tall. And starting to get broad in the shoulders.

He should leave. Unfortunately, Potter looks up as he goes to, eyes a hazy green in the reflection of the glass. He hears the door slam behind him as he speed - walks away.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Potter demands. The veins in his arms flex as he clenches his fists and Draco’s lips part.

“Piss off.”

“You piss off. You stay away from me. You stay away from my friends.”

And that could be it. But of course he has to blurt, “I didn’t mean it.”

Potter’s eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean what I said. Any of it.”

People glance at them on the sidewalk as Potter frowns up at the sky. He feels drops of water on his neck and startles. They both stare at each other.

“Whatever. Apologize to Hermione, you piece of shit.” But his mouth curls up at the ends. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You don’t have your license.” Potter had only just turned fifteen.

He grins. Points at the ragged blue truck across the street. “Doesn’t mean I can’t drive.”  

Draco shouldn’t. “What about your friends?”

A shrug is his answer. Potter takes his jacket off and throws it at him. It smells like cologne and sweat. He tries not to inhale as he puts it on.

“We’ll make a run for it. Ready?”

He nods. And they go.

* * *

His father isn’t home. Potter walks him to his door but doesn’t linger.

Draco wishes things were different.

* * *

He’s not really allowed to listen to music but like any other teenager, he does exactly what he’s not supposed to and he does it well.

Jagged Little Pill is the album he plays often. It’s angry and out of control and he isn’t sure if he even likes it. But, Alanis croons, _And I'm here, to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away,_ and he thinks he gets it.

* * *

Draco’s hair is getting darker, no longer the pale blond of his father’s but a chestnut brown. It grows long if he doesn’t cut it and it waves into loose curls when wet. He puts on a binder and an undershirt before trying on different shirts to see if they compliment his complexion.

He knows his skin. How it tans if he stays out for too long. His father always looks at him. Doesn’t say anything. But he makes sure not to go out for awhile afterwards so as not to cause a problem.

Sitting on his bed after he’s gotten tired, he stares at the picture of the woman. Her face is more plump but he thinks they have the same nose and mouth. She’s beautiful.

Draco takes the pen out of his teeth and scribbles _mom_ on the back in cursive. Tucks it in the box underneath the bed.

Thinks, _okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets harder and harder to write. 
> 
> I left some p strong hints though.


	3. Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fire takes out a new family in town and at first he doesn't know if it's because they're black but his dad shakes his head, mom muttering Jesus in the living room as they watch the news. The parents are pronounced dead, the kid - a chubby ten year old - is the only survivor. He sees the close up of the slurs on the side of the house and wants to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile. Got into a block because there is a lot of plot that starts in this chapter and is going to make the 5th chapter v hard. I wrote most of the next chapter and it's just. yeah. 
> 
> \- tried to incorporate some more 90's slang. we use a lot of things from the 90s anyway. at least my southern gay ass does  
> \- aka the southern nosy line is what it was like growing up with my small town grandma and her hoh brother  
> \- i used to play football so i decided to make that the sport in place of quidditch. hate writing sports scenes though cause yikes  
> \- sirius and remus being high school sweethearts along with james and lily makes my life. Iconique  
> \- writing about how masculinity manifests in harry - a bisexual male of color - is nice in contrast to writing femininity in draco - a gay person of color. i love them both 
> 
> anyway. i hope this isn't too hard to stomach with all that's happening. but knowledge is power. love you all lots xx

_Sept_

His mom talks to him about responsibility. He listens, nodding occasionally and zoning out only a few times. He obviously already knows how to drive (from one of his wild adventures with Fred and George), at least well enough to get him and his friends home safely. Both his parents probably know that, but as long as he doesn’t get into an accident they don’t ask _._

So they start driving. On the street. He’s nervous because there are more people than he’d ever encountered before. He tended to drive on backroads or after four o’clock. And he was driving the Ford Mustang SVT Cobra.

“Dad is going to be so mad.” The car was like his baby, which is why he’d always taken the truck to go out.

“Eh.” Mom shrugs from the passenger seat. “Fuck it.”

“Mom!”

She laughs, putting her hair up into a side ponytail. Her blue overalls are ruffled and her lips are slightly red from chewing them. She always lectures him on biting his nails and yet she’s constantly chewing on her lips. “Let’s get this baby rollin'.”

“Stop trying to be cool.”

“Trying?” She asks, obviously offended. He thinks his mom _is_ pretty cool but as a teenager it’s his job to pretend to the contrary.

So Harry confirms, “Trying.”

She sticks her tongue out. By the time he’s made it to the front of their local bakery they’re laughing over something he’d heard some girl say in the hallway during school. He parks and he looks over as the engine goes silent.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up.” His mom sounds nasally which his dad would make fun of relentlessly if he were there.

“Mom -”

“Shut up, let me have my moment, alright?”  
  
Harry looks pointedly out the window for a full minute then turns back.

Mom punches him in the arm but the corner of her mouth is twitching. “Drive us back home, buddy.”

* * *

Harry shakes out his jacket, frowning when a piece of paper flies out from one of the pockets. He opens it. Recognizes Draco’s hand writing.

“Shit.”

He feels weird about reading but it’s been a few months so Draco had most likely forgotten about it.

 _I can't believe you're friends with him_ , Draco's handwriting says. The next line is obviously someone else. Probably Theo or Pansy. Someone Draco always runs with. 

_Do you want me to hook you up?_

_Father would kill me._

The rest of the conversation is scribbled out but he can make out the - unfamiliar - name Blaise. He stuffs the piece of paper in his drawer and leaves for school. 

* * *

_October_

“You should ask Cho out.” Ron suggests at lunch, stealing a fry from Hermione’s tray. She gives him a dirty look and opens her mouth to complain. Harry shakes his head frantically. He doesn’t want to deal with another infamous argument today. She sighs and goes back to her book.

He doesn’t turn around but he knows where Cho is. She always sits with the other quiet, sweet and semi popular girls. “I’ll take a rain check.”

Ron shrugs. “Your loss.”

“I’m waiting for the right time.”

Dean, who was arguing with Seamus over which senior girl was hotter, butts in. “Blood, come on. I heard Cedric is getting ready to ask her out too.”

It’s probably true with the way the upperclassmen had been eyeing her for awhile now but he’s stubborn. “I’m good. I don’t have the time to be worried about a girlfriend.”

Hermione smiles at him over book ( _The Catcher in the Rye_ ), braids shaking. “That’s smart.”

And coming from her, that’s a huge compliment. “Thanks, Mione.”

Ron clears his throat loudly. “If you two are done flirting, I want another sandwich.”

“Come on then, dickhead.” Harry rolls his eyes, shoving his friend out of his chair. 

Ron is a little distant the rest of the day but he passes it off as an upset stomach . 

* * *

 

_November_

His dad gets him a part time job working at the car shop. It's the best first job he could ask for. Everyone's quiet, except for some occasional light ribbing. 

He likes looking at cars but he loves learning the mechanics of them, what makes them start and stop. Parts like valves and spark plugs. He learns how change a tire, check the oil. It’s a good feeling. Harry likes knowing that he can take care of something like that. That if something goes wrong he could fix it. 

Hagrid grins at him. He always seems to be in a good mood. It’s cool. “You’re a hard worker. Like your dad.”

He looks down in hopes it hides his flush. It’s probably the best compliment he’s been given. "My dad said you graduated the year before he started H Founders?" 

"Yep," The man nods. "But I saw your mom and dad a lot. They met here, actually."

He knows this story. Mom had been living up north and her aunt decided to move down south when her husband passed away. His dad and her had met while he was working at the shop and her aunt's car kept breaking down. The story is cheesy when they tell it, but he supposes it must be amazing to have loved someone for so long and live to tell the tale.

"Are you married, Hagrid?"

Hagrid flushes. "Nah. Not interested."

He's about to question further, nothing too rude, but a car pulls in and they have work to do. _Later_ , he thinks. 

* * *

 Practice is grueling. Their coach runs them to the ground with laps. Like always, Oliver does the most while they're doing some offensive plays. He spends most of the field time laughing at Seamus mocking the center's ego and rolling his eyes at some of the guy's dirty jokes. 

Seeing as the locker room is a mess of testosterone, sweat and jokes that aren't funny, he showers, stuffs his cleats in his duffel bag and leaves. Ginny’s waiting on the bleachers, writing something in her notebook. He pushes her head and laughs when she hits him in the stomach. “What’s up, kid?”

“Oh, shut up.” She snaps.

He rubs his hands together. It’s starting to get chilly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I wish I could play.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m a girl.” He watches her jaw clench as she stares out into the field.

“Sure,” Harry nods. “And?”

She rolls her eyes so hard it looks painful. “Don’t try that shit with me.”

“Hey. Language, freshman.”

“You're not my dad.” She mumbles and he softens. It’s weird being older than someone because you don’t realize how much a year or two can mean. How much you’ve already learned.

 _Wait until you're our age,_ his parents like to joke. But they were still pretty young too. High school sweethearts and all that.

“Look, I’m not trying to say it won’t be tough. But someone has to be the first one to do something, you know? And I’m sure you’re not the only girl who wants to play football.”

Ginny takes a deep breath. Her freckles stand out on her pale skin. Ron had always been insecure about them but he thinks they’re cute. Like little stars he could trace constellations to with his fingers. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Well, don’t think too hard. You might just break something.” He jokes and Ginny shoves him off his seat.

* * *

 

_December_

“Well, if isn’t my favorite godson.”

Harry grins. Takes in his godfather’s beard and long hair. He looks healthier than the last time he’d seen him which had been almost two years. Before his prison sentence. 

He doesn’t know much about the details of Sirius’s incarceration but he does know it was unjust. It’s scary - the thought he could go to prison for something he hadn’t done because of the color of his skin or, well, who he was attracted to.

“I’m your only godson.”

Sirius makes a mock surprised face. “Are you? Sure there isn’t another one running around here somewhere?”

His mom doesn’t look up from her book, casually flipping a page. “If that’s a way of asking if I’m pregnant, then absolutely not.”

“Not even gonna say hello to me, my dear?” Sirius claws at his chest, Remus rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s dramatics. His dad only grins.

Mom glances up. “Hi.” Then goes back to her book.

“I feel the love.”

His dad ushers Sirius into the kitchen to talk. Remus claps Harry on the back giving him an affectionate noogie. “How are you, Harry?”

He’s not really good at small talk but with someone who's practically his blood he can make an effort. Eventually, after they’ve been talking about school for long enough to bore him, his dad calls them into the dining room for dinner. His mom is a decent cook but his dad is amazing. He’s made some shrimp pasta with homemade sauce and Harry practically fights his mom to the death to get a good helping.

Sirius hums around a bite of his food. “I heard about the altercation at school, kiddo.”

Harry swallows. The anger he felt was still there, lingering but only barely.

“Yeah. It wasn’t great.”

“Those Malfoys are trouble.”

“Sirius.” His dad warns. Sirius holds his hands up defensively.

“I’m just saying. We all know what Lucifer is into.”

His mom snorts, seemingly despite herself. She coughs when his dad gives her a dry glance. "Anyway, when are you breaking up with the loser, Remus?"

"Lily." Remus grins. "If you're trying to flirt with me please realize both our partners are in the room."

Mom glances around. "Where?"

"God, all this unresolved sexual tension is making me sweat." Sirius drawls and Harry laughs. His uncle winks at him across the table. Listening to them make fun of each other, always managing to take it somewhere new, reminds him of his friends. He hopes they end up like this; fun and open. 

Maybe.

* * *

_January_

He sees Draco around school sometimes. Thankfully, they only have one class together - French. 

Madame Maxime lists off the partners with their French names they can barely bother to remember. Draco, Harry. Luna, Seamus. Parvati, Colin. Draco moves his chair to let Harry past to take a seat. Plays with the pencil on his desk, staring at the instruction sheet.

Finally, “Do you even like French?”

“Nah,” Harry decides to answer. “Just here for the credit.”

Draco rolls his eyes. He’s started to wear his hair loose and he can see the small wave at the roots. It’s cute.

“I guess I’ll being doing all the work.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, of course I’ll help. Can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

“When can you ever?” Draco points out and Harry grins, recognizing it as the teasing it is. By the end of the period they managed to exchange some only sort of mean and passive aggressive answers and suggestions. 

* * *

  _February_

Since football season is over, he decides it’s the perfect time to ask Cho out.

“Good luck, buddy.” Ron says, playing a game on his Nomad. 

He isn’t exactly nervous but he can feel a certain thrum in his chest and a light flush settling on his ears. It’s a curse he’s gotten from his mother. Her ears get red when she’s embarrassed or telling a lie. By the time he's walked over to Cho's locker he feels slightly more confident in his ability to ask a single question. 

“I was wondering, um, if you wanted to go out with me?"

Cho blinks. Not the normal amount either. A lot of times in rapid succession that’s either from nerves or a signal for her friends because they disappear. Girl magic. 

"Uh, sure?" It sounds like a question. He tries to sound firm.

"I'll pick you up on Friday at six."

She smiles. "See you then." 

* * *

 “So, you like this girl?” His dad asks over dinner the next night.

“Mom,” He complains. “Dad’s trying to talk to me again.”

Mom grins over a spoonful of pasta (she’s really eating it with a spoon, the nerd). “Honey, stop trying to talk to him.”

Dad rolls his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

“Yeah, she’s hella chill.”

“Back in my day - “

Harry looks at his dad, who laughs. “Sike!”

His mom snorts. Puts her first out for a bump. Disgusting. “Good one, James.”

“Why are you both such nerds?” He asks, disgusted.

"Excuse me, I was a jock. You're not the only athlete in this family."

"I also, was an athlete." Mom inserts. Which is, actually more true than his dad. 

But they're so full of shit. He shuts up and eats his food.

* * *

Toy Story is funny, at least funnier then Billy Madison, but Cho doesn't seem to think so. She's quiet. Takes small sips of her drink and only eats some of the popcorn. 

Which was fine. Until he kisses her, outside her house, and she bursts into tears. 

"I'm sorry, I -"

"No, I'm sorry, I should have asked first, shit, are you okay?" 

She sniffles. Her nose is bright red. "Yeah, ugh. Harry?"

"Yes?" 

"I like Cedric."

He isn't really surprised but he _is_ surprised by how not hurtful it is. He's just embarrassed. "Cool. I mean - I understand."

"Thanks." She ruffles his hair. Like he's a kid brother or something. Ugh. "I'll see you at school."

"Pick up your face." He mumbles to himself as he gets back in the car and drives back home.

* * *

 “Not a good date?” His dad asks over his glasses as he bounces on the couch in frustration.

He groans. “I thought it’d be alright.”

"What happen?" 

"I - she cried." 

Dad's eyes widen, lips twitching and he laughs. And laughs and laughs. 

"Shut up. " Harry whines, burying his face in one of their useless decorative pillows. 

"I'm sorry." Dad grins. He loves gossip. Both his parents are the stereotypical nosy southerners opening the curtains to peep at neighbors and stopping to stare at car accidents.  "It's just. Was it that bad?"

“She likes this other guy. Cedric.”

"Sorry, kid." His dad pats his shoulder and pointedly goes back to watching the basketball game. Harry sighs. 

* * *

_March_

“Malfoy apologized to me.” Hermione brought up suddenly, shooting Harry an indiscernible glance. He raises his eyebrows in question. She shakes her head. 

Ron spits. They're hanging out around the town square, Luna and Neville having dragged them out to get some food. “That faggot.”

Harry winces. “Cut that shit out, man.”

“I’m talking about Malfoy, who cares?”

“It’s still wrong.” He argues. Catches Luna nodding behind Ron’s back, playing with Neville’s fingers.

"Whatever, man." Ron gives up. He's staring at something in the distance. 

Neville speaks up, tone kind. "Let's eat at the new Chinese place." 

"Sure."

Hermione pulls him aside as they all go ahead in the restaurant. She's playing with keychain on her necklace. "You know we love you, right?"

His first instinct is to go _huh_ , but he thinks maybe she's trying to support him after the whole Cho incident, which - embarrassing as fuck, but cool. 

"Yeah, of course, love you too, bookworm."

She dimples and he kisses her cheek right where it indents. He has such good friends. 

* * *

_April_

He runs into Draco at the store buying tampons. They do the awkward eye contact, pretend confident shuffle that comes with seeing someone you recognize out of a contained setting _._

Surprisingly, Draco greets him first, voice deeper than normal. “Potter. Didn’t expect to see you without one of your little sidekicks.”

He ignores the small slight and smiles. “My mom needed her stuff, you know."

Draco grimaces. "Riveting."

Harry hums. 

“It’s not really any of my business, but isn’t it just you and your dad?” He asks and Draco’s face pales. His skin has been noticeably tanner. Probably from the sun.

“You’re right.” Draco swallows. He doesn’t really have a prominent Adam’s apple like Harry’s used to seeing on other guys. “It’s none of your business, Potter.”

They wait in silence as the woman in front of them takes her bags. Harry motions Draco to go first, and pays for his stuff quickly after to catch up with him outside.

“Hey, let me take you home.” He suggests because it’s dark and he feels bad about making someone uncomfortable. For some reason, Draco turns around and laughs.

“Why are you like this?”

He leans in. “Like what?”

“Nice.”

Harry huffs. Then, realizes, that it’s not an insult. It’s not _God, you’re a pussy_ like he hears some of the boys at school sling around in the locker room. Draco means _you’re nice_ like _I trust you_.

“My dad beat manners into me.”  Draco winces. “I don’t mean literally. I mean - just let me take you.”

Draco tilts his head. His eyes are half lidded, staring at Harry like, like he’s really something. “Okay, big guy, you can take me home.”

He laughs at _big guy_ cause he’s not even close to being big in height or weight but it’s a fly sentiment. He drives Draco home, only getting the boy irritated once which amuses him a lot more than usual. They pull up in front of the house and he clicks the locks. Draco pauses before closing the door. 

"Potter -"

"Harry." He corrects.

" _Harry_. Be careful, okay?"

He licks his lips. It sounds like a serious warning. "Sure, yeah. You too."

Draco huffs and shuts the door. 

* * *

_May_

The thing about being a biracial kid is people never let you forget it. 

A fire takes out a new family in town and at first he doesn't know if it's because they're black but his dad shakes his head, mom muttering _Jesus_ in the living room as they watch the news. The parents are pronounced dead, the kid - a chubby ten year old - is the only survivor. He sees the close up of the slurs on the side of the house and wants to look away.  

All he can think is, _that could be me_. 

It's scary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments motivate me, but kudos are cool


	4. Interlude #2: Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks over. She’s so beautiful. He wishes he was her but not. It’s not definable. He feels like a word no one has discovered yet. “And what do you think?”
> 
> She pauses in the flipping of her magazine. “I think you want boys like I want boys and girls. I think we can’t fit.”
> 
> Draco can’t be a cup close to overflowing but he can be a glass half full. He can be a friend. He sits down next to Pansy, looking at the page she’d stopped on. Models with the lightest skin and smallest bodies. They don't remind him of anyone he's ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had lots of plot things to organize. You're getting two chapters next month and two in March, and that will be the end, my dears. Ginny and Pansy will have their own little side story. But they don't get together for. Well, let's just say it takes them longer. 
> 
> \- The plot loosely follows canon. Take that as you will.  
> \- Blaise and Draco is dear to my heart.  
> \- in the 90s 30 black churches were burned down in an 18th month period. in two cases, five Klansmen were found guilty and forced to pay 37.8 million dollars. because of these burnings, the church arson prevention act was formed. the most recent incident was in nov 2016 by a black man who spray painted "vote trump" on the side of the church. it's still happening.  
> \- i mention a movie every chapter and i love it.

"Another year older - " Pansy starts and Theo picks it up. Blaise is watching them with sharp grey eyes. 

"- another year weirder."

Draco shoves Theo lightly. They're not anywhere near the water, but he doesn't want to take any chances. "Shut up, chomp."

"Don't push me, brat." 

"Boys, boys, let's all focus. On how great I look today."

Theo shoves her too. 

He drives them to a gas station to buy some snacks because he’s not buying anything from the movie theater that he could buy cheaper somewhere else. Blaise rests on the front of the car with him. They've been acquainted for awhile now, but its still new, the weird part at the beginning of a friendship. 

"What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" He asks fiddling with his car keys.

“You look at me. Kinda like the way you look at Potter.”

Draco holds his breath. His hands are shaking. This isn’t scary like fucking up with his father, breaking a rule, this is scary like a risk that might be worth taking. "I don't know what you're talking about."

“You want me to fuck you.” Casual. So casual. Draco licks his lips. 

“I’m not - “ Blaise cocks his head and he stops. Exhales. “I just like to look. It’s harmless.”

The boy shrugs. “It’s not so bad to want to look. Not a big deal."

They look up when they stomp of Pansy's shoes against the sidewalk, practically pouring out of the store with Theo at her heels. "I hope you two like twizzlers and gummy bears because that's all we've got and I don't care what you wanted." 

"Um," Draco manages to recover gracefully. Half because Pansy is looking at him like she knows what she just interrupted and half because he's a Malfoy. "What about chocolate? That's more important here.”

Pansy pouts dramatically. She's rubbing her arms like she's cold which is - no way. He watches Theo pull off his sweater and she accepts it politely and winks at him. What a fake. "Too bad, so sad. Be grateful I bought the candy, birthday boy."

"I'm not driving you anywhere without my chocolate." 

Three pairs of hands reach out for the keys. Draco raises his eyebrows.

"I'm not letting you assholes wreck my new car."

Blaise has already managed to grab the bag of gummy bears and swallows a handful before saying, "Trust me."

He eyes him. Blaise was probably one of the most reliable guys he'd ever met and that wasn't saying much. But he did know Harry Potter.

"Fine. Let's see how you do, Zabini.”

* * *

 

They watch _Mission: Impossible_. He prefers romantic comedies, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Pansy seems to enjoy it. She gets into eight seperate fights with Theo over handfuls of popcorn and Blaise looks vaguely annoyed but also amused at their inability to be quiet. Draco is used to it by now. 

"So I'm having a party this Saturday." Blaise starts, as he pulls in front of the house. He'd dropped everyone off first seeing as Blaise lived only a few minutes away from himself.

Draco hums. "Is this an invite or are you giving me information to write a paper?"

Blaise eyes widen, lips stretching to the sides, nose wrinkling as he laughs, obviously surprised at his own amusement. Draco likes to think he's pretty funny - as dry as his humor is, it occasionally catches a few people off guard enough to elicit a chuckle - but he's been around Blaise long enough to garner that he isn't one to laugh or smile often.

"You're a smartass."

He considers making an innuendo but holds himself back. “I try.”

“I want you to come.” Blaise suddenly states, seriously. 

“Okay.”

They stare at each other. Draco blinks rapidly before turning to look ahead. 

"I have to get home."

Blaise sighs. Opens the car door. "I'll see you later." 

"Maybe." Draco asserts. Blaise shakes his head all the way to his door. 

* * *

 

“My mom think we’d go well together." Pansy says, ankles crossed as she leans over the side of his bed. His father won't be home for a long while yet so they're just hanging out.

He looks over. She’s so beautiful. He wishes he was her but not. It’s not definable. He feels like a word no one has discovered yet. “And what do you think?”

She pauses in the flipping of her magazine. “I think you want boys like I want boys and girls. I think we can’t fit.”

Draco can’t be a cup close to overflowing but he can be a glass half full. He can be a friend. He sits down next to Pansy, looking at the page she’d stopped on. Models with the lightest skin and smallest bodies. They don't remind him of anyone he's ever met. 

“You like girls?”

She shrugs but her lips are pursed together tightly. Even though he wouldn't wish this feeling on anyone, it's comforting to know he isn't the only one afraid.  “Can’t say I wouldn’t do the youngest Weasley. Kind of have a thing for jocks."

“Gross.” Draco whines. Can’t help smiling.

“Oh, come on. Live a little.” Pansy wiggles her eyebrows. "Fuck, marry, kill -

He groans. "Come on."

“Potter, Blaise, Cedric."

He can feel the flush on his cheeks, and cups his cheeks with his hands as if Pansy can’t already tell. “Is it really that obvious?”

Pansy drags her eyes around the room like a heavy backpack across the floor. Her lips are bleeding slightly from where she’s bitten them but he doesn’t want to point it out. Some habits are best left alone. 

“It’s not, really. Not to anyone who doesn’t love you.”

“So just you and Theo then.”

It comes out sadder than he intends it to. Pansy scrunches her nose and he scrunches his nose back. She ruffles his hair (something he doesn't appreciate when it took him forever to make it wave nicely), smiles and jumps off the bed.

“Come on, emo. Turn on _California Love_ and let’s dance.”

So they do.

* * *

 

 The party is loud and simultaneously overwhelming and underwhelming.

"You want a drink?" Blaise asks. He’s wearing a white collared shirt and black shorts. It's a nice look for him - the contrast pleasing against his dark skin.  

Draco shakes his head. Maybe it's not cool or whatever, and he has nothing against drinking - he's definitely had more than his fair share of alcohol. But he wants to be sober for this. Whatever  _this_ is. Everyone is spread around the house, the music way too loud for a respectable get - together. His survey of the room finds Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory making out in a corner. Gross. Blaise clutches his hand lightly. 

“Wanna see my room?”

He nods, catches Pansy and Theo giving him mocking waves as he goes upstairs. 

Blaise's room is very clean. Draco doesn't think it could be less of a typical teenage boy room. There's pictures everywhere, art pieces strung along the walls. A camera bag rests on a desk and he figures that Blaise does art. 

"So are you -"

Blaise kisses him. It’s warm and he doesn't know where to put his hands. If it's acceptable to move them. He feels soft, paper thin and ready to be written on, knows he should be left hollow but wants to be filled. Draco finds it's not even really a sexual feeling or a bad one. Being without isn't awful, only denying himself the chance.

“I’m afraid.” He admits into Blaise’s lips.

“It’s okay.”

 _Mouths are weird_ , he decides. Then stops thinking all together when Blaise presses his tongue inside, palm warm on Draco's stomach. They kiss for so long he feels dizzy. It reminds him of being small and spinning in the backyard for so long he'd fall to the grass. It was just as addictive then as it is now. 

The door creaks open and Harry is there, suddenly. There’s a pause - his eyes going gold in the warm lighting - but he doesn't seem disgusted or freaked out. Only tentative.

“Yo, someone broke one of your vases, thought I'd let you know."

Blaise groans but doesn't seem suprised. His lips are kiss swollen."Thanks, blood. I'll be done in a minute."

Harry clears his throat. "Sure thing." 

The door slowly creeps closed, but not all the way. Blaise stares at the gap for a long time. 

Then, "That was - 

"Weird." Draco finishes. 

For a second, Draco thinks about not laughing, but Blaise rests his head on his shoulder, body shaking, and he can't help it. 

They stay that way - bodies resting against each other - for a long time, even after they sober. 

* * *

 

His father doesn’t say anything for awhile when he tries to sneak in the house a couple hours later. There has never been a moment where he hasn’t feared his father, so this no different. But tonight, he just wants someone to hold him and maybe tell him it’ll be okay, even if it is a lie. Especially then.

But he has what he has. There’s no point in wishing things different.

"I know you have your interview for the internship tomorrow, but if I hear you've been at that boy’s house again, you're never leaving the house again. Do you understand?"

Draco nods. “Yes, sir.”

"Go to bed, Draco." Father says tiredly. He wants to say sorry but he wouldn't mean it. 

It takes a long time for his heart to settle down enough for him to sleep. 

* * *

 

He bumps into Harry again at the 7-11. A couple is fighting over drinks across the store and it drains out the Mariah Carey song on the radio. He's mildly disappointed. 

"Have you been watching the news? All these churches are being burned down lately. I've heard people saying it's the KKK."

Draco spins around. "What?"

Harry seems oblivious to his abrupt tone and the reason behind it. "It’s wild. Scares me a little bit. Or, okay, a lot." 

He searches for a way to change the subject. “Why are you always at the store at the same time I am? Don’t you have other people to bother." 

"We could hang out." Harry suggests. He's staring at a bag of chips intensely. 

"Us? Hang out?" Draco laughs. "And do what?"

"You could come over.”

He almost jumps back, he’s so startled. “Are you stupid? Our parents hate each other.”

“So? We’re not our parents.”

But aren’t they? Isn’t Draco his mother’s dimpled smile and light brown skin? Isn’t everything he is destined to be everything his parents are? 

“We’re not friends, Harry.”

His not – friend tilts his head. A kid runs in between them, but they don't look away from each other to figure out where they go. "So what are we?" 

 _That_ is hard question.  And one that is more interesting with the softness it's delivered with. He settles on an honest answer. "I don't know." 

Harry scratches the side of his face. He's breaking out a little, little pink-ish dots on his left cheekbone. But even like this - silly and wearing a chain wallet - he still wants to kiss him. Draco is fucked. "Let me know when you figure it out." 

"Bye, Harry." Draco rolls his eyes and goes back to his snack hunt. 

* * *

 

He hears through Pansy that Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, is in the hospital. Apparently it was bad. Almost dying bad. 

Draco wants to not feel afraid anymore, to not feel like he's doing something wrong. Because maybe it isn't his fault directly, but he isn't ignorant; he knows what his father is a part of.

So he thinks. And plans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the word "chomp" nerd friend 
> 
> [my tumblr](https://syrenhug.tumblr.com)


	5. the lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing up on Draco’s doorstep in the dead of winter probably isn’t the brightest idea, but he’s never been accused of doing anything by halves. And the look of concern on Draco’s face when he comes out the door almost warms him more than the coat he wears. 
> 
> “What are you doing here, Harry? It isn’t safe. I told y- ”
> 
> “I forgive you.” He rushes, a car making its way to a hospital. Too fast, but never fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- sorry this took forever. this starts the path to the end and things will get a bit more disjointed as the ending plot starts (so yes a month was left out on purpose)  
> \- this chapter probably isn't that great but i was going through a block and i needed to write this. originally this was longer but i decided to cut some stuff to save for the next chapters  
> \- hope you enjoy

_Sept_

The first week back and Harry is already ready for senior year to start. He dozes off in Algebra 2, only waking up when Blaise taps him on the shoulder on his way out. He isn’t a huge fan of the guy, but they all have to look out for each other. High school is too long to make any lasting enemies.

“Hello!” Someone chirps and he turns from shoving his books in his locker. Luna’s bright smile greet him. She’s wearing overalls, blonde hair tied up with chopsticks. A phoenix necklace clanks against her chest every time she moves.

“How’s it going, Luna?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Harry.” Her voice is high and ringing, a church bell on Sunday. Neville is a lucky guy. Luna is beautiful. And sweet. An unbelievable combination. “You look tired. Get some rest this weekend.”

“I’ll try. Just work and, you know, other stuff.”

Luna’s mouth scrunches in a frown. Her hand brushes against his arm lightly. “I’m sorry about your uncle, Harry. It’s awful. He didn’t deserve this.”

“Yeah.” The whole thing makes his mouth taste of iron. “No one ever really does.”

They walk together until they reach the end of the hall where their paths don't cross. Luna waves, bouncing on every step. He waves back. Is glad to know her.

* * *

 

His uncle looks out of place in a hospital, skin pale under the lights. It makes Harry ache, phantom wounds from Sirius's stabbing. He doesn’t see Remus anywhere and figures he’s out sneaking Sirius some better food. He’d been complaining about the hospital fare all week.

“Come to break me out?” His uncle jokes when he spots him. 

He laughs. It’s hollow. “I wish. Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t took off.”

Sirius eyes him. Then pats the corner of the bed. “Come sit, young grasshopper.”

Harry rubs his head, debates on if it's safe. But Sirius has his serious face on. (Ha.) So he figures he has no choice. The bed groans with both their weights to carry, but holds.

"You're taking this pretty hard." 

Harry deadpans,"You were stabbed."

"Eh, what's a little bleeding now and then?" Sirius says, laughing, but then he catches Harry's expression and grimaces. Brushes his shaggy hair back."Too soon, huh?" 

Way too soon. 

"Look, kiddo. Stuff happens. This isn't the first time and I doubt it'll be the last. I'm brown and very not straight."

Harry appreciates him not sugar coating it. His parents had never tried to shield him from the realities of the world, and he'd always been grateful for it. "I know. I'm just - I hate seeing you like this."

A hand squeezes his shoulder, and they're half hugging. It's good. Harry is a sucker for affection. "It'll be okay. Let's watch some shitty hospital TV." 

Later, on his way out, he spots Draco sitting on a chair. His bottom lip is cracked, stained red from blood.

"What are you doing here?"

“I have to tell you something.” Draco eyes shift around the hallway before he tugs on Harry’s hand. Drags him into the nearest closet. Harry feels his heart in his throat. Fears that he will swallow it.

“Uh, I’m flattered -”

Draco’s quick  _ew_  crushes his ego spectacularly but he had it coming with the worst joke he’s ever told in his life. And there’ve been a lot.

“Okay, I don’t want to bullshit this. You know how everyone hates my father. It’s because he’s apart of the - “

And it hits Harry all at once. Of course. Of course. Because why would any of this be anything but a joke, a way to say he pulled one over on the silly, monkey Potter.

“You knew? This whole time? When I was talking about how scary all this has been. You  _knew_.”

“Harry. I’m telling you now.”

He tries to count. 1, 2, 3.  “My uncle is in the hospital because of people like you.”

It goes quiet. The darkness is suffocating,  Finally, “You’re right. And I’m so sorry.”

“You know, I don’t want to always be scared of white people. I don’t want to always look over my shoulder and hope one of them won’t hurt me all the time. But people like you and your father only remind me why I have so much fear.”

A hand clutches his own. He doesn’t want to let go, but he has to. Harry can’t be friends with someone who has hurt him the way Draco has. “Please.”

“Leave me and the people I care about alone.” He says, and leaves Draco in the closet.

* * *

_October_

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

Thankfully, Ginny doesn’t do the annoying  _no, you have to guess thing_  that some people do. She punches him in the shoulder so hard he legitimately tears up. Freaking brat.

“I made the team.”

He can feel his eyes widen. Not even because he’s surprised. Ginny is the most determined and stubborn person he knows. Harry smiles. The first one that’s felt genuine in awhile. “That’s awesome. How?”

She grins, dimples popping. “Because I’m great. How else?”

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He says. Ruffles her hair. She laughs, and pushes his head to get him in a headlock. They scuffle a while, pulling each other’s jackets like they do every time he goes over to the burrow. He catches Ms. McGonagall coming out of her classroom and straightens up, brushing his clothes off. Ginny laughs again; this time at his fear.

“Thanks, Harry.” Ginny says, twisting his ear before she runs off to class. He shakes his head as he watches her almost hit Pansy with her backpack.

“Always."

* * *

  _November_

The dreams are a pit in his belly, they way they scrape at him until empty. He is all ache. It never seems to disappear. He watches boys at his school. And wants to admit to himself that he wants. And the wanting is not bad. But it is tiring. Because he knows that who he really wants is someone he should not. 

* * *

“How did you know you were, you know?”

Remus takes a bite of his turkey and dressing.  Sirius and his mom are arguing over something in the kitchen. He's pretty sure his dad is recording it. Just another day in the life. “Devastatingly handsome? I was born this way.”

Harry only barely manages not to roll his eyes. “Uncle Remus.”

“Harry.”

“You know what I mean.”

“When you refuse to name something that only gives it more power. Isn’t that true?”

Harry bites his lip. Nods. “How did you know you liked men?”

Remus sighs. “Well, I’m gay, though Sirius is bisexual. And I think my journey was slightly less complex than his in certain ways. When I found out I had HIV, I was ashamed for awhile. I thought -" 

“It’s not your fault. It doesn’t make you a bad person.” Harry rushes to say when Remus seems to scrunch into himself a little. 

Remus’s face smoothes, softens in a way that’s always made Harry want to lay his head on his shoulder and play at being a child. Remembers when he was young that he would curl himself between he and Sirius’s lap, whining for a story. And they would pull out their best voices and give him one. How anyone could not look between them and not see true love is beyond him. 

Remus brushes Harry's back in thanks. 

“Do you like someone?”

“Maybe. Kind of.” Harry flushes. 

"Well," His uncle takes a sip of water. "Go for it."

* * *

Hermione’s parents are both professors. It’s no wonder why Hermione is so smart, willing to learn, be open for the sake of knowledge. Sometimes she can be bossy. But Harry admires her initiative, her willingness to get a job done.

He knocks. A second later, Hermione opens the door with a little wave, “Come in, my dad’s sleeping.”

He tries not to look around. His house is nowhere near close to being as nice as the Granger’s. They move upstairs. Her room is just a nice. Wood furniture, an elegant mirror and books stacked neatly on every shelf. He knows they're alphabetized. 

“I talked to Draco today. He seemed sad.” Harry can’t help the roll of his eyes. “Harry, what happened?”

“Did you know? That his father was a -”

“Klansman." She picks up a brush and pulls it through her hair gently. The curls wave like the ocean. "I did. But Draco isn't."

She's right. Of course she's right. "But he pretended not to know, he practically lied." 

“Everybody makes mistakes. Growth is a process. And you both seem to really care for each other. Don’t just throw that away because of short-term anger.”

Harry thinks of how his chest aches when he sees Draco in the hallway, how he dreams of taking him apart and putting him back together with his bare hands like he does with the cars that come in the shop. But it's hard to forgive. In this, especially. What if Draco's father stabbed Sirius?

He admits, picking at a loose thread on the bed spread. “I care about him. More than I thought I could ever." 

"That's not a bad thing." Hermione assures. Her hands criss-cross, quick as she plaits. "Look, I'm not saying we should condone what Draco's father is. It's, frankly, disgusting. But Draco obvivously doesn't agree with it. And maybe we can help him." 

Harry knows this. But it’s easy to know something. It’s harder to put it into motion, to make a wish an action. He likes a boy. A white boy with racist father. God, is this how his dad felt? Hermione stares at him from the mirror, brown eyes turned honey in the light. He pulls a face to make her laugh. She does, turning to find bands to tie her braids with.

"Now let's talk about the project due on Wednesday." 

* * *

 

_December_

Showing up on Draco’s doorstep in the dead of winter probably isn’t the brightest idea, but he’s never been accused of doing anything by halves. And the look of concern on Draco’s face when he comes out the door almost warms him more than the coat he wears. 

“What are you doing here, Harry? It isn’t safe. I told y- ”

“I forgive you.” He rushes, a car making its way to a hospital. Too fast, but never fast enough.

Draco’s face softens, eyes watering even though he tries to cover it by blinking rapidly. They both look away. Every exhale is a cloud of air. “You do.”

It doesn't sound like the question he knows it is.

“We need to talk. Really talk.”

Harry breathes in sharply. “Meet me tomorrow behind the huge tree in the park.”

They meet and talk. For hours. 

(And maybe he leaves with his first ever boyfriend. But that's no big deal.)

* * *

 

_January_

“Babe, I gotta go.” He says, pretending not to notice Draco blushing at the endearment.

“Fine. Leave me here in utter, tragic boredom.” His boyfriend pouts. Splays even wider on the blanket he’d laid upon the grass.

“Do you wanna come?” It’s out of his mouth quicker than it scans in his brain and it’s not exactly the worst idea, but it’s not the best either. Ron is gonna kill him.

“To the Weasley’s house? Are you serious?” Draco gives him the raised brow, a signature look that manages to convey all his thoughts on the receiver's intelligence - or lack thereof.

“Sure. Why not?” He shrugs.

“Ron hates me. The whole family hates me.”

“They don’t know you. They hate your dad, that’s all.” He says, stopping to pick up a rock. Draco crashes into him from behind, obviously on purpose, and they laugh. Harry wants to press him into a bed a kiss him forever.

A whisper makes him pause. “You said before that I’m like my father.”

Regret is a weird feeling. You can’t take things back. But you still wish you could. “You know I didn't mean that. Sometimes people say stuff they don’t mean when they’re angry.”

Draco hums. The walk is quiet.

The burrow is a charmingly classic house fifteen minutes away from his own. It’s closer to the country than the town. The last stop on the bus, Ron had always said. He doesn’t knock. Practically kicks down the door in his excitement.

It smells like pot roast and cookies. Harry’s two favorite things.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Mrs. Weasley pulls him into a comfortable hug. Her cheeks are flushed, strands of hair escaping her tiny bun. "And who's this?" 

“Mrs. Weasley, this is Draco." 

If the name is rings a bell, she pretends it doesn't. Only smiles kindly. "Hello, young man. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Oh, I couldn't impose - "

"Nonsense. You're not imposing."

“Harry,” His best friend comes out from the kitchen behind his mother. The tips of Ron’s ears are red, freckles made even more apparent by his flush. He's mad. Ron has levels of anger and this is a 7 on a 10 point scale. “We need to talk.”

He squeezes past everyone - the twins having just from their spot on the couch to introduce themselves, squeezing Draco's hand as they head upstairs. Ron closes the door to his room before rounding on him. 

“Why would you invite him here?" 

"Look, I'm sorry, I should have told you first. But, Ron, we're dating." Harry says quickly, licking his lips. It's almost too warm in the house, made so by the fireplace and the jacket he's yet to take off. He's sweating. 

Ron face scrunches up like it does whenever something is so beyond his comprehension he needs about five years to process. "What?" 

"I like him, okay?"

His best friend goes quiet. Then, finally, "I thought you liked Hermione." 

Harry doesn't know why but it's so ridiculous that he laughs. And Ron, eyes wide and shocked, follows him into amusement. They fall on the bed, only stopping their laughter when it creaks. 

"You're so dumb." 

"Well, I'm not dating a Malfoy, am I?" 

"Hey, Draco is cool. He's grown up a lot."

Ron turns to him. The red of his hair is so bright even in the faint light of his room. "I like Hermione."

"Okay." Harry isn't surprised, but doesn't want to be the person to tell Ron that he'd been very obviously and slightly dick-ish about it. Sometimes best friends have to keep certain things to themselves. "I'm happy for you."

"I guess I am for you too." Ron shoves his hand in Harry's face, making a disgusted noise when Harry licks it. "Come on, lover boy. Let's go see your boyfriend."

* * *

 

_February_

“What do you like about him?” Dad asks. They’re sitting on the floor working a puzzle. His mom is cleaning the bathroom, making as much noise as possible to get dad to peek in on her every time it gets even remotely quiet. Apparently she lost a bet. He doesn't want to know.

“He makes me laugh. He’s not like me. Like, we really don’t have much in common. But I like that. He fascinates me.” Harry says. Wonders if that’s all wrong, if that’s not a good enough reason to like someone or want to date them. But his dad is nodding. 

“I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

He thinks about it. “No one wants to get hurt. But it’s worth it? Sometimes? Maybe?”

Dad pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. They’re black, frames thick. He can't imagine his dad without them. 

“How did I not notice? You’re growing up. My little man.”

“Dad,” He whines, but appreciates it. He is growing up. Harry is glad to have so many good people around him to help him through it. "Seperate all the end pieces, old man."

 

* * *

 “Got a minute?”

Pansy fixes him with an unimpressed frown as she looks from arranging things in her locker. “I have two.”

“I can't lie and say I won't hurt him. But I care about him. And I won't ever do it on purpose."

She examines him. Flips her long black hair over he shoulder in a calculated move. Then, she exhales. "You don't know the half of any of this, Potter. But then, neither do I." 

He opens his mouth to question that, but she waves him away. "I have things to do. Go make out with Draco." 

Harry thinks about what she said for days after. 

* * *

 

_March_

“Do your work.” Draco chastises, as Harry presses his lips to Draco’s neck and nibbles. His parents have been out all day and their supposed to be studying. A Mariah Carey song is playing on the radio and Draco is humming along, chewing at the middle of his pencil.

He’s so cute. Harry straightens up on the bed. Attempts to look studious.

“I am.”

His boyfriend shifts, eyes squinting as he tries to figure out what Harry is playing at. Finally, he leans over and presses his lips to Harry's. They kiss for so long he gets dizzy, only stopping to breathe. With his eyes closed, he forgets anything else exist besides his fingers on Draco's waist, bodies pressed together. But, a door opens, and he jumps, almost falling over unto the floor. 

“Mom, dad.” He basically shrieks, Draco snorting as he tries to tame Harry’s hair into something that doesn’t look like he'd had a boy yank it during a makeout session. “I didn’t know you were home.”

His mom is smirking, nudging his dad with her shoulder. She’s the one he really needs to watch. His dad is a dork, but a chill dork. “Evidently.”

“End that, please." He begs immediately. “We were just - “

Mom raises her eyebrows. “I think it was obvious what you two were doing.”

He hates her. So much. 

"Lily, let's not embarass them too much. We were young once." Dad says, but he's covering his jaw in hopes to hide his grin. 

Harry flushes. "Yeah, like a million years ago, apparently." 

Draco gasps, pressing his hand to his chest. "Harry, is that any way to talk to your parents? These beautiful, lovely people who gave you life?" 

 _Kiss up_ , he mouths, and Draco winks. Mom's eyes light up, wiggling her shoulders. "Draco, come to the kitchen with me. I'll teach you how to make Harry's favorite and show you all his baby pictures."

"Dad, please." He pleads, but his dad shakes his head in defeat as Draco leaves with his mom, pressing a kiss to his cheek in apology. 

"Your mother is a unique person." 

Harry sighs. Might as well get some homework done. 

* * *

 

_May_

He wonders sometimes if it is okay to be this happy. If that is a feeling that can be afforded to a person like him. But he looks at his mother, all she has taken. At his father, and all he has given, and he will take it.

But how to keep it? Is another thing all together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments help. you can ask me questions on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> I hate Adam Sandler and BIlly Madison, ew. 
> 
> See if you can spot all the 90's trash in this.


End file.
